Occultatio Iustitia Nulla
by MTLupy
Summary: Spencer Reid thought it was just another day of harassment at school...until it turns deadly... Gil Grissom was trying to enjoy a day off from work...instead he gets one of his hardest cases... Rated T for violence and language. *UPDATE* I am still working on this, but my hard-drive got wiped and I lost all of chapter 8. I'll try to re-write it over Christmas!
1. Chapter 1

_**Occultatio**__**Iustitia**__**Nulla**_

**Author's Note: This is my first fanfic ever, so please don't hate me if you think it sucks. ^ ^ Well, I have this bad habit of day-dreaming (esp. during math class...) and one day I thought, "Hey! Wouldn't it be fun for Reid and Grissom to meet each other?" Then the evil and violent part of my brain said, "Oh yes! Mini Reid and mini Grissom should meet and Reid should DIE! MWAH HA HA!" But, no that would be way to mean to poor Reid. So, my mind will have to deal with him being seriously injured! Anyway, sorry there's not a lot of Grissom yet, he'll be a bigger character next chapter, promise! I hope y'all like chapter one! Please review if there's anything you really love...or hate... :D Oh yeah! And for those who want to know, "Occultatio Iustitia Nulla" is Latin for "There is no hiding from justice." What can I say? I like Latin!**

**Disclaimer: Well, I thought it would be obvious but I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation or Gil Grissom. That would be the job of CBS. I am however, the proud owner of Eric Fletcher! Mwah ha ha!**

Eleven-year-old Spencer Reid was running, running as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. He didn't know where he was running to, but he sure knew whom he was running from: Eric Fletcher and his gang were after him…once again. Why did he even bother trying to defend himself whenever they antagonized him? This skinny preteen was no match for three brawny seventeen-year-olds.

Spencer yelped as he tripped and fell onto the asphalt of a parking lot, skinning both his knees and his palms. The older boys soon had him surrounded.

"Well, well. Looky here, boys," Fletcher said in his annoyingly cocky voice. "Smart Ass can' even stay on his own two feet! Ha!"

The other two laughed stupidly at their leader's joke. "C'mon Einstein. Don' you know nothin' 'bout gravity?"

"Leave me alone," Spencer said quietly, avoiding eye contact as usual.

"And what'f we don' wanna?" Fletcher said kneeling next to the younger boy, his bleach-blond hair falling in front of his eyes. "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it? Bore us to death with your statistics and crap?"

Spencer could come up with about 473 different comebacks, but he decided that the smartest thing to do right now would be to keep his mouth shut.

One of the other boys, Jeff Duquesne, roughly shook the younger kid's shoulder. "Where're your manners Einstein? Answer the frikin' question!"

Spencer sighed. "Whatever I say isn't going to make you leave me alone, nor will stop you from bullying me, so what's the point in answering you?"

"Aw c'mon! We ain't bullying you, Smart Ass," Fletcher said with a grin and then kicked the younger boy hard in the chest so that he toppled over. "Now, see? That there would be bullying."

The other teens laughed again, one of them smashing the younger one's glasses. Soon a full beating ensued.

"You shouldn't've said that 'bout my mother Smart Ass," Fletcher said kicking the kid in the face. "Should've known nothin' good would come've it!"

And now my nose is broken along with my glasses. Wonderful. Spencer thought wryly, moaning in pain, unable to defend himself.

Once he heard the retreating footsteps of the older teens, the boy rolled up into a ball and prayed the damage wasn't as bad as it had been last time.

"Oh, we ain't done here yet Smart Ass," Fletcher whispered right in Spencer's ear. "Get up!"

The kid just groaned in response, so Fletcher grabbed him under the arms and yanked him up, holding him in a strangle hold.

"Let me go!" Spencer screamed, struggling to get free.

"Oh shut up you son-of-a-bitch," Fletcher pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. "You know, you really shouldn't've said that about my mother, Smart Ass."

Spencer's eyes widened in terror as he stared at the knife. "P-please."

"You really need think before you talk."

Spencer cried out as the knife was vehemently stabbed into his abdomen. Falling to the ground and clutching both hands to his stomach, he heard a man's voice yelling and running footsteps.

"Control, control! This is CSI Grissom requesting immediate paramedics and patrol to Lorenzi Park off of W. Washington Ave.! A kid has just been stabbed and the culprit's on the run, so far on foot. Do you copy?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews! I've been working on this chapter for pretty much all of the past two days, and it's probably the last I'm going to write for a bit… Sorry, homework is telling me to stop procrastinating and do it. Anyway, this chapter's more Grissom-centric. It didn't go **_**exactly**_** like I wanted it, but I still like it and I hope you do too! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Gil Grissom or Jim Brass, obviously. That would be the job of CBS. Also, there is a quote from The Inferno by Dante. It will be noted by Grissom.**

Gil Grissom, in a failing attempt to relax and actually enjoy his day off was walking through Lorenzi Park. It had been a tough case. Five dead prostitutes, same signature (tied up, stripped naked, throat slit and covered in Vodka), found scattered all around the Strip within a five-week period. They had finally caught the guy last night when he was driving drunk. Seemed almost ironic. During the interrogation, he had bragged about the killings and even threatened the trainee Catherine Willows…

The thirty-five-year-old shook his head and tried to think of something, anything else. He lied down on the grass by the lake and took out the book he had been reading to try and escape. After about ten minutes of trying to get into the book and failing, he put the damn thing down and sighed. A swarm of _Junonia coenia_, the common buckeye butterfly, flew by his head and he had to smile. Mother Nature's small gift to this tired, overworked man.

Not wanting to be late for dinner, Gil checked his watch. He'd still had about an hour to get ready. He got up and started to walk back to his car. He had just reached the parking lot when he heard the scream.

"Hey!" Gil yelled and started to run towards the two other people in the parking lot. The older one hopped the fence and was running down Washington, but the younger one had fallen to ground. There was already a lot of blood.

"Control, control! This is CSI Grissom requesting immediate paramedics and patrol to Lorenzi Park off of W. Washington Ave.! A kid has just been stabbed and the culprit's on the run, so far on foot. Do you copy?" he shouted into his walkie, desperation making his voice sound almost an octave higher than usual.

He was told it would take the medics six to eight minutes to get there, but Gil didn't know if the kid could last that long without medical attention.

"My name is Gil Grissom, can you hear me?" he said kneeling next to the boy. God, there was so much blood…

"Yeah," came a weak, pained response.

"Okay, good. Can you tell me your name?"

"Spencer…Reid."

"Good, you're doing great, Spencer. I'm going to need to roll you on back, all right?"

The boy groaned feebly as Gil pushed him onto his back. He felt awful causing the kid more pain, but it would be easier for him to work on stopping the bleeding this way. The boy's eyes were closing, he was losing consciousness and bleeding out fast.

"Spencer whatever you do you can't close your eyes, do you understand? You can't fall asleep." Gil took off his top shirt and moving Spencer's hands, pressed it to the wound.

"_Midway upon the journey…of our life, I found that I was…in a dusky wood… for the right path…whence I had strayed…was lost…_" Spencer mumbled dazedly, pausing every few words to gasp for breath. This confused Gil. He knew exactly what was being quoted, but this kid was hardly twelve. How could he know Dante?

After a couple minutes, the kid stopped quoting, obviously too weak to continue. Gil checked his watch and saw it had already been six minutes. "God! What the hell is taking the medics so long?"

As if on cue, sirens were heard down the street and an ambulance rushed into the parking lot.

"Sir, you're going to have to move," one of the EMTs said to Gil, and began working on the barely conscious Spencer. The medics quickly ripped open the boys shirt and went through several bandages until he was stabilized.

One of the EMTs gave Gil a towel to clean the blood off his hands as Spencer was loaded into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. Soon the police arrived along with Jim Brass, Gil's partner.

"What the hell are you doing here, Gil? I thought this was your day off," Jim said sarcastically.

"You aren't the only one Jim."

"Grissom! I need to talk to you," called Detective Al Markovic, walking towards them. "What happened here?"

"I see I'm a witness now," Gil whispered to Jim, before turning to Markovic. "I was just about to go home and I heard a scream near where I parked my car." He indicated over to where he parked. "The suspect hopped a fence and ran east on W. Washington Ave. I didn't chase after him, though, because the victim, Spencer Reid, needed immediate medical attention. He'd been stabbed in the abdomen; by the amount of blood lost I'd say the liver. We have to catch this guy Al, the vic can't be more than twelve-years-old."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: So sorry it took as long as it did to write this! :( I hope y'all aren't too mad at me…I had a lot of homework to do, and then my creative juices stopped flowing for a bit…but it's all good now. :) Random revelation: Grissom is younger than Brass! Okay, back on topic! The first part, I warn you is…a bit…okay a lot silly! The second part, to be honest, is rather depressing, but I really like the ending of this chapter…and I hope you do too! :D**

**Warning: Mild reference to Revelations…kinda.**

**Disclaimer: If is isn't obvious to you that I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Gil Grissom or Jim Brass, but that they are owned by CBS, then you're stupid. Excuse my reference to my English teacher. ^ ^ Oh, and more Dante's Inferno quotes. If you read the last chapter, you'll be able to pick it out. If you didn't, it's the big italicized part.**

Gil was staring aimlessly at the now dried pool of blood on the pavement, not paying attention to anything or anyone else. He wished he could make the sights and sounds from earlier that day disappear, but they seemed to be burned into his mind; he could still hear the kid's erratic breathing, still see the kid's terrified hazel eyes, still feel the kid's warm blood running through his fingers…

"Gil?" called Jim from a couple feet away, needing help with taking pictures. When Gil didn't respond after a couple minutes, he resorted to _other_ methods… "Gilbert, _dormez-vous_? … Hey! Gilly!"

Still the other man didn't respond.

Jim pressed his lips together and frowned in frustration until a last resort came to him. "Gilbert...uh...Eustace Grissom! You get over here this instant, mister!" He said in a horribly faked feminine voice.

"It's Charles," Gil replied quietly, deadpan, still lost in his thoughts.

"What?"

"My middle name is Charles, _mother_." He got to his feet and walked over to where Jim was processing evidence. "And for future reference Jim, my mother doesn't _technically _talk."

"Your mother doesn't…talk? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Ignoring his partner, Gil grabbed the camera and began to take pictures of the scene.

Though thoroughly confused, Jim was accustomed to the younger man's bizarre behaviors and let it drop. It was obvious from the time he arrived on the scene that this case was going to be hard on his partner.

There was another long and somewhat awkward silence. "So…uh…Gil, you still want to wear this?" Jim asked, holding up the collection bag, which contained Gil's blood-soaked shirt, that he about to put into the van. "You do know that your clothes are going to need to be collected as evidence, right?"

For the first time since arriving at the park Gil looked himself over and realized he was covered in Spencer Reid's blood. "Well, I'm not going to strip here. I'll get arrested," he nodded towards the officer.

Jim laughed, not at the joke, but at Gil's seriousness. "Damn! I would've paid a grand for that show!"

Gil shot him one of his signature looks, but couldn't completely mask his smile. By the end of the hour the crime scene was processed, and the two men took the evidence to the lab.

* * *

Spencer lay on the ground, in a tight ball, trying and failing to stop the blood flowing from his abdomen. He couldn't move…he couldn't think…

"My name is Gil Grissom, can you hear me?" Spencer could just barely make out what was being said to him. The words sounded slurred and like they were being said from far away.

Yeah," he groaned.

"Okay, good. Can you tell me your name?"

"Spencer…Reid." His own voice sounded strange to him. God, Zeus, whatever deity there is, please take pity and make this stop!

"Spencer whatever you do you can't close your eyes, do you understand? You can't fall asleep." Spencer was losing consciousness quickly and the thought of death frightened him. Who would take care of his mother if he died?

He wanted to scream as he was pushed onto his back, but all he could force out was a weak groan. In desperation to keep conscious, he began quoting the first thing that came to his mind: "_Midway upon the journey…of our life, I found that I was…in a dusky wood… for the right path…whence I had strayed…was lost…Ah me! How hard…a thing it is to tell…the wildness of that rough…and savage place, the very thought…of which brings back my fear! So bitter…it was, death is little…more so: but that the good…I found there may…be told, I will describe…the other things…I saw…_" He had to stop; he just didn't have the energy to continue.

Finally, Spencer felt some thing…an oxygen mask…being pressed to his face and bandages pressed to his stomach. As he was lifted onto a gurney, he just couldn't fight anymore and let himself slip into pain-free darkness.

It was weird, being unconscious and at the brink of death. Spencer was dreaming his parents were still together and his mother was cured of her schizophrenia. For once, they were a happy, loving, _normal _family… Spencer had transferred schools and was no longer a victim of bullying. Life was so good!

Then it changed…his happy life drifted away… He didn't understand what was happening to him. _Am I dead?_ Spencer wondered. Suddenly, something slammed painfully down on his chest and he was thrown back into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Yay! Chapter 4 is complete! Thanks again for all the awesome reviews! Well, this chapter is not really going to be about Reid, but more about Grissom, Brass…their boss…and Diana Reid. Hope you like it! **

**Warning: References to Revelations, Sounds of Silence and Scuba Doobie-Doo.**

**Other Warning: Reid's mother is going through a schizophrenic relapse (thank you health report), so don't be surprised by the way she acts. I hope you like the way I did it; it was not easy. Note: Recently edited, I like it even better now! ^ - ^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer, Diana or William Reid, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Gil or Betty Grissom or Jim Brass. They're owned by CBS, no duh!**

**Other Some-what Disclaimer: For the Percy Jackson fans (Funnt, Lint, Lyds :P) reading this - Yes, Sam Jacobs is based on Mr. D. I had a lot of fun with that…**

"Oh! Mr. Grissom?" called the receptionist. "You have a visitor."

"Great…" Gil mumbled. "I'll see you in a bit, Jim." At the front desk, he met possibly the third last person he expected to see: Elizabeth Grissom…his mother.

As he walked over, she turned and her expression turned to one of shock and fear. Gil was confused for a second…until he looked down and remembered…

"_Oh._ _It's ketchup, don't worry,_" he signed.

She raised one eyebrow. "_Ketchup - ? No, I'm not going to ask…"_

"_Let's go somewhere where we can sit down, okay?_" Gil led her over to the break room and they sat down at one of the tables. "_Can I get you anything?_"

"_Oh_ _no. Thank you though._"

Gil sighed. God, he needed to take a shower... "_Mother, why exactly are you here?_"

Betty had to laugh. "_Oh Gilbert! You're so…absentminded like your father. We were supposed to go out for dinner tonight, remember?_"

Shit. Grissom slapped his hand to his forehead. "_I'm so sorry mother! I completely forgot. There was this -_ "

His mother put a hand up to stop him. "_I don't want to hear about it Gil. I'll be in Vegas for a few more days, we'll make it up later._"

Gil smiled. "_I hope we do. It's really nice to see you mom._"

"_You too Gil._" Betty looked at her watch. "_Well, I'd better get going. Josie and I are going to play poker at the MGM in a bit._"

"_Please_ _be careful._"

"_Shouldn't I be the one saying that?_" Betty laughed again. "_Now, I'm not going to hug you because you're covered in "ketchup" and I don't have time to change_."

"_I'll show you the way out._"

After his mother left, Gil walked over to the locker room to take a much-needed shower.

"You going to tell me who that was?" Jim asked.

"No. May I have a collection bag?"

"Hmm… Girlfriend maybe? No, I don't think _she's_ your type…" Jim said, handing his partner a bag.

Gil grabbed some clean clothes and a towel from his locker. "Excuse me? I don't think I like your intonation Jim."

"Oh c'mon! We all know it's true."

"What are you talking about?"

Jim laughed. "You know what, I'll be in the break room if you need me. See me when you aren't covered in blood, okay?"

* * *

"Nice of you to join us Dilbert," Jacobs, his supervisor, said as Gil entered the room. Gil had given up on trying to make his boss understand that his name was _Gilbert_ not Dilbert, Herbert, Norbert, Albert, etc.

"Oh, it's _always_ a _pleasure_ Sam." Gil said sarcastically, and put the bag containing his bloody clothes on the layout table. "What did I miss?"

"Well, the hospital wants me to tell you that if it weren't for you the kid would've died on scene, so good job," Jacobs said in a bored voice. "Anyway, Markovic got some info on the vic: eleven-year-old Spencer Reid, son of William and Diana Reid and a student at Western High School - "

"Did you just say _high school_?" Jim and Gil asked practically at the same, both utterly perplexed.

"Yes I did. The kid's in high school; apparently he's some kind of genius. May I continue, _gentlemen_?" said an obviously annoyed Jacobs. "Norbert, I want you to tell the parents what happened and see if they know who would do this to their son." He handed Gil a slip of paper with the Reids' address written on it. "Jim, you and I are going to stay here and sort and catalogue the evidence."

"Ad nauseam!" Gil mumbled angrily to himself as he walked out to his car. If there was one person in the world he truly loathed, it was Samuel Jacobs. He was a stubborn, arrogant obnoxious bastard!

Checking his pulse (93), Gil realized that he really needed to calm down before talking to the kid's parents. He took a few deep breaths and got into his Ford Escort. As he drove to the Reid household, he tried to think of what the hell he was going to say. How do you tell parents that their _eleven-year-old_ son has been stabbed in the liver and is now fighting for his life? Gil had never been good with people in the first place…

He pulled up to the house and knocked on the door. No answer.

"Mr. and Mrs. Reid?" Gil called. "Anyone home?" He tried the doorknob and it opened immediately. "Mr. and Mrs. Reid? I'm Gil Grissom from the Las Vegas Crime Lab." Still no response, so Gil entered the house. "Um…the door was unlocked… I'm coming in."

The house was relatively clean, but needed dusting and there were books everywhere, all medieval literature. Gil noticed certain titles like _The Cloud of Unknowing_ and _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_ as he walked through the small house calling for the Reids. He found Spencer's room and curiosity got the best of him.

The kid's room was easily the neatest room in the house, almost compulsively clean. Gil was surprised, though he felt he shouldn't be, by the contrast of the items in the room: Pre-Calculus and Chemistry textbooks, adult novels (mostly classics like Dickens and Twain), action figures of knights and a radio controlled car to name a few. The kid was obviously trying to balance his extremely high IQ, with being eleven years old…

The only mess in the room was a pile of books on a table by the bed: books on schizophrenia and books on parenting. Definitely not topics you'd expect to find in an eleven-year-old's room…even if he was in high school…

A noise from a room across the hall snapped Gil out of his thoughts. Maybe the house wasn't as empty as it had appeared…

"Mr. and Mrs. Reid?" Gil slowly opened the door to find a woman around his age furiously pacing around the room – Mrs. Reid.

"Something's wrong," she mumbled, knotting her fingers in her long blonde hair. "No! No! That's not right! Stop!"

"Mrs. Reid? My name is Gil Grissom, I'm with the Crime Lab…"

"Something is wrong, Will! I just know it is! Stop it! STOP LYING TO ME!"

"Mrs. Reid, are you all right?" Gil gently touched the woman's arm.

Diana spun around, almost smacking him in the face, and glared at him angrily. "Don't touch me!"

"Mrs. Reid, I need to talk to you about your son - "

Her expression changed to one of confusion and a hint of sadness. "Spencer? He's at school. He won't be back for a while…"

"Mrs. Reid, Spencer isn't at school, he's in the hospital - "

"What?"

"No, no! He can't be - ! Wait. I knew something was wrong! But no, he won't listen!"

Gil looked around. "Who won't listen?"

Diana looked at him like he was an idiot. "My husband! Are you blind?"

"Mrs. Reid, there's no one else here…" Gil finally figured it out. The books in Spencer's room…it all made sense now...his mother was schizophrenic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Here it is, the chapter we've all been waiting for…drum roll please…the chapter where we get to see what happening to Reid! I think it's a pretty fun chapter and Reid and Gris getting to know each other…a little bit. I wish I could've made the opening scene of this chapter a bit longer, but oh well… Please tell me if there are any parts of this that don't make sense. I kept changing my mind, or forgot a scene...it went through a lot of editing... TT _ TT Well...I hope you like it and reviews are always welcome! ^ - ~**

**Warning: References to Elephant's Memory and Gentle, Gentle (I kinda just stole a line…).**

**Other Warning/Disclaimer-ish Thing: I based the flashback on a scene from the book Die Mitte Der Welt (The Center of the World) by Andreas Steinhöfel.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Gil Grissom or Jim Brass. Alas, CBS is their proud owner.**

Spencer slowly opened his eyes and was blinded by the bright white light. Pain and confusion immediately filled his mind. Where was he? What was going on? Why did everything hurt some much?

The boy tried to sit up, but quickly fell back letting out a gasp of pain. Trying away, failing again, tears streaming down his face, he let out a cry of aggravation. He started to claw at the things on his face and left arm.

"Honey, you need to leave that alone and lay still," said a nurse, who had heard him cry out. She put her had on his forehead. He still had a fever.

Spencer tried to get up again and to speak. Not being able to accomplish either he cried out again, exasperated.

"Sweetie, you need to lie down," she gently pushed him back onto the bed and held down his arms at the wrists so that he would stop trying to pull off his IV and respirator.

"No! No!" Spencer managed to choke out, tears starting to flow again, as he fought with the all the strength left in his body against the nurse.

"I need a little help in here," the nurse called out. "Hon, you need to calm down." His EKG was getting out of control.

"What's wrong?" demanded Dr. Mortimer as he swiftly entered the room to see nurse Elena Lupo struggling to restrain his patient. "Don't hold him down like that, Elena! He probably doesn't understand what's going on." The boy shouldn't be awake yet; the anesthesia wore off too soon…

Elena released her grip on the boy's wrists.

"Spencer, Spencer, listen to me. My name is Dr. Mortimer, you're in the hospital. You need to calm down and lie still or you may tear your stitches, all right?"

The boy stared at him in confusion. The hospital?

The doctor smiled kindly. "You need to rest so you'll get better." He injected more morphine into the kid's IV. Spencer calmed down quickly and fell back asleep.

* * *

"Hey Gil, our vic's awake," Jim said as he entered the break room.

Gil finished the Chinese food he was eating. "Okay, I'll head over there and see if he can give us any leads."

"Gil wait, I need to talk to you for a sec."

The younger man turned at the door to face his partner.

"Someone once told me that we can't make our cases personal or they'll eat us alive."

Gil glared angrily at Jim for throwing his own advice back at his face. "Thanks for the tip Jim, but _you_ didn't have to hold your hands to the kid's stomach so he wouldn't bleed to death. _You_ didn't have to see the fear of death in his eyes, so sorry if this case _is_ personal." He stormed out of the Crime Lab and drove to the hospital where he met Dr. Mortimer.

"You're here for Spencer Reid?"

"Yes doctor." Gil looked through the window at the boy. "How bad is he?"

The doctor sighed. "He's not out of the woods yet, but I expect he'll make a full recovery. To be honest with you, he's incredibly lucky. The knife did piece his liver, but it wasn't too deep and I was able to seal it completely."

"Can you tell me if he sustained any other injuries, that is besides the stab wound?"

"Well, he has five cracked ribs, a broken nose, a moderate concussion, abrasions on his palms and knees and he's covered in bruises. It looks to me like this kid got ganged up on and beaten up."

Gil shook his head. "God, do I hate people who do things like this to children."

"One more thing before I let you see him," said Dr. Mortimer lowering his voice. "I don't know how relevant this is, but I noticed he's also somewhat malnourished." He shrugged. "I don't know, it may just be his stature, but I thought I should let you know. Now, I can't let you question him for too long because he needs to rest…but I'm sure you knew that already."

"Thank you doctor," Gil said and entered Spencer's room. "Hello Spencer, I'm - "

"Dr. Gilbert Grissom born August 17, 1956. You have a Ph.D. in biology, and you're one of the few people in the United States who understands the science of entomology - " Spencer looked down and blushed. "Sorry."

Gil had to laugh. "What? Have you been checking up on me?"

Spencer's face flushed a deeper shade of red. "N-no! I-I just… You w-were mentioned in a b-book I read…"

Gil smiled. "Okay, well enough about me, let's talk about you. I'm going to need to take some picture of your injuries as well, all right?"

Spencer grimaced, but agreed.

Gil pulled away the blankets and took pictures of the boy's face, palms and knees. "So, what do you remember from the day you got hurt?"

Spencer nervously bit the inside of his cheek as the Crime Scene Investigator pulled back his hospital gown to get pictures of his chest. It shouldn't have, but it shocked Gil to see how badly bruised the kid was. Why would someone do this to a child? "Uh…well, school had just ended and I was getting ready to walk home when…um…Fletcher and his gang decided to antagonize me…"

"_Hey Smart Ass, where'd ya think you're goin'?" Fletcher said slamming Spencer's locker shut._

"_Please leave me alone, Eric. I need to get home."_

"_What's the rush, Smart Ass? Alexa waitin' for ya? Or does you're crack-whore mother need ya?"_

_Spencer was growing so tired of this. After what Fletcher and the rest of the football team did to him earlier this year, couldn't they just leave him alone? _

"_C'mon Smart Ass, say it. 'My mother is a dumb-shit crack-whore.'"_

_The younger boy balled his hands into fists and turned to face the bully. No one insulted his mother, especially not after his father left. "Thank you for admitting it Eric, but hey we all already knew that _your_ mom is a 'crack-whore.' How else could such an imbecile as yourself of been born?"_

_Fletcher's face turned dark purple in anger. "C'MERE YOU LITTLE SON OF A BITCH!"_

_And Spencer ran, almost literally for his life._

He bit his cheek again. "I-I told him to…uh…leave me alone, but of course he didn't…they never do… He was trying to get me to-to…" The boy paused and closed his eyes for a moment. "I ran and m-made it to the park before Fletcher and his gang caught up with me. Th-they beat me up and…um…Duquesne and Evans left, so it was j-just Fletcher and I. I believe you know w-what happened after that…"

"What did Fletcher want you to do?"

"He wanted me to insult my mother," Spencer said quietly and winced in pain.

"Can you tell me what Fletcher, Duquesne and Evans' first names are?"

"Eric Fletcher, Jeffrey Duquesne and Robert Evans." The boy winced again hoping this pain would go away soon.

"Now Spencer, Dr. Mortimer has brought it to my attention that you're underweight. Do you know why?"

"They…uh…Fletcher and company, always would steal my lunch money, so I…uh…stopped bringing it. I just skip lunch now." Spencer and his mother needed the money for other, more important things anyway…

Grissom frowned. "This bullying seems to be a big problem for you."

The boy grimaced and thought of how he'd almost killed himself earlier in the year. What had stopped him was the knowledge that he couldn't leave his mother alone. She needed someone to take care of her, and she'd already lost his father. "I can handle it, Dr. Grissom. I mean, statistically speaking 77% of students are bullied every year. I'm fine. Really."

Gil pulled out a card from his wallet and handed it to the kid. "Spencer, I want you to know that if you ever want to talk about anything, you feel free to give me a call, okay?"

"Thank you, sir." Spencer half smiled. "You know you really don't have to do that…"

"Mr. Grissom," said Dr. Mortimer entering the room. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave. Spencer needs to rest."

"Of course," Gil turned back to Spencer. "I am going to catch who did this to you, Spencer and I am going to make sure he is put behind bars."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I'm really sorry this chapter took so long to write! :( I hope no one's too mad and is going to boycott me now. Curse you writer's block and school! ;) Well I hope you enjoy this chapter, lots of fun things await!**

**Warning: Major reference to Elephant's Memory.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Gil Grissom or Jim Brass. Alas, CBS is their proud owner. **

"Markovic, we've got a lead," said Jim as he and Gil entered the detective's office.

"Can you look up an Eric Fletcher for us?" asked Gil.

Markovic typed the name into his computer. "Let's see… Junior at Western High School, same as the vic. Hmm… Got a record for misdemeanors. Assault mostly. You like this kid for stabbing our vic?"

"We'll need an address, Al."

"I'll take that as a yes. Okay, he lives with his parents, Aaron and Anita Fletcher in Summerlin…"

* * *

The two CSI's walked up the stairs to the door of a large, obviously upper-class estate.

"And we're sure this is the right house?"

"Well, according to Markovic it is," Gil said, ringing the doorbell.

After a few moments an irritated looking, well-dressed woman opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Fletcher?" Jim asked, unsure of himself.

"It's _Ms_. Gibson. 'Mrs. Fletcher' makes me feel old."

The two men glanced at each other in amusement, but quickly sobered up. "Ms. Gibson, I'm Jim Brass and this is my partner Gil Grissom. We're from the Crime Lab. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"What's this about?"

"Ma'am, your son Eric is a person of interest in an on going investigation. May we come in?" said Gil.

Ms. Gibson groaned. "_Fiiiiiiiiiiiiine_." She led the two men into an eloquently decorated den. "So, what trouble has Eric gotten himself into this time? What's the bail at?"

Jim was surprised by he lack of emotion. Even _he _was more caring about his child. "Ms. Gibson, we have reason to believe your son has stabbed a fellow student."

She covered her eyes with her hand. "Christ…"

"When did you last see your son?"

"This morning, before he left for school." Not exactly the answer they had expected.

"All right. Now, on Monday, did you notice anything different in your son's behaviour?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Has he ever said anything bad about any of his classmates?" asked Gil.

"Not that he's told me. We don't talk very much."

"Can you tell us who his friends are?"

"I think there's a Jeff…and maybe a Bobby… I don't really know."

"Do you even know where he is right now?" asked Jim, trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

She looked at her watch. "Hopefully at school."

Jim and Gil looked at each other and met a silent agreement: This conversation was getting them nowhere.

"Ms. Gibson, would you mind if my partner and I take a look around Eric's bedroom?" asked Gil.

"Whatever."

"Uh, actually Gil, you do this one alone," said Jim. "I'm gonna head over to the station and see if we can pick up this 'Jeff' and 'Bobby.'" Hopefully they'd be more helpful than this broad…

Jim turned to leave, but Gil stopped him at the door. "Jim, Reid said something about a Jeffery Duquesne and a Robert Evans when I went to interview him. How much do you want to bet they're our 'Jeff' and 'Bobby?'"

Jim grinned and headed out the door.

Gil headed up the staircase and easily found Eric's room: just look for the door covered in posters and stickers. Heading inside he found an angsty teen's paradise: posters of bands like Metallica, Death Angel and Ozzy Osbourne, a vast collection of heavy metal CD's, a television set and clothes well…everywhere… Gil had his work cut out for him.

The CSI sighed and began to sort through the clothing strewn across the room. He put every article of clothing into a separate collection bag until he reached a small plastic bag buried in the back of the walk-in closet. It seemed to be just a back of dirty laundry – but perhaps it was the precise "dirty laundry" Gil had been searching for.

Carefully untying the bag he pulled out switchblade wrapped in a bloody t-shirt. The blood tested positive for human, but he would have to wait until he got back to the lab to confirm it was Spencer Reid's.

"Well," Gil said examining the knife, "I guess he isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer."

* * *

Jim Brass had just reached his car when his pager went off, "Get to PD. A.M." _Hopefully this is a new lead_, Jim thought as he drove to the station. He really didn't like how this case was making Gil act.

Markovic met him in the front lobby. "Where's Grissom?"

"Eh, let the Gruesome collect his evidence. We're really starting to like this Fletcher kid for stabbing Reid."

"Well, apparently so does his friend Bobby Evans. The kid just dropped by, and he's willing to talk."

Jim smiled. "That is _exactly_ what I needed." The detective and the captain-turned-CSI walked into the interrogation room, and faced the slight, but muscular Goth teenager.

Markovic put a recorder on the table. "This is Detective Al Markovic and CSI Jim Brass, interviewing…" he nodded to Bobby.

"Robert Evans."

"On the Reid stabbing case. Now Robert…or do you prefer Bobby?"

"Bobby."

"Okay Bobby, how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"And you also go to Western High School with Eric Fletcher and Spencer Reid, right?" asked Jim.

"Yeah. We're all juniors."

"How long have you known Eric?" Markovic asked.

"Since Freshmen year…so about two years."

"What kind of things do y'all usually do together?"

"Normal guy stuff I guess. Me, Jeff and Eric go to the arcade, play basketball, listen to music, break things, hang out…" He paused for a minute and sighed. "Jeff and Eric like to pick on Reid; I wish they'd just leave him alone. He's a nice enough kid, never bothered no one, yet everyone's always makin' fun of him. God, y'all should've seen what the football team did to him earlier this year." He shook his head.

"What do you mean? What happened?" asked Jim.

"They tied him up naked to a goal post. It was all around the school. Reid got really jumpy after that."

Now Jim was confused. "And no one did anything about it?"

Bobby laughed. "No one cared! Not the teachers, and _definitely _not the students."

"What about Spencer's family?"

"Don' know nothing about them, but I don' think he told them about it. I know I wouldn'."

There was a few moments of silence, finally broken by Markovic. "Okay. Let's go back to the day of the stabbing. Tell me about your day. What happened?"

"Well, first period I go to Spanish with Eric and Jeff. Then I go to health, and I'm in American with Reid and Eric. Of course Eric had to tease Reid there, nothin' too big though. After that I go to English with Eric and Jeff. Study hall is next and then Trig; all four of us are in the same Trig. Jeff and Eric were throwing crumpled pieces of paper at Reid most of the class. Finally, lunch and double Chemistry ends the day."

"Do you know anything that would've prompted a fight between Eric and Spencer?"

"Yeah, after school ended. Reid seemed to be in a rush to leave, but Eric stopped him. He started tauntin' him, but Reid just ignored it. Finally, Eric said somethin' like, "Say 'My mother's a dumb-shit crack-whore.'" Reid turned around, and I'll be damned if he didn' said _exactly_ what he was told to. He agreed with Eric callin' _Eric's_ mother that, and just bolted. You know, I think that was the first time I'd seen him try to defend himself in a long while… Anyway, Eric made me and Jeff chase after the kid and we caught him in Lorenzi Park." He sighed. "I wish I could say I'd done somethin' to stop them as they beat the kid up, but I didn'. I just stood there and watched. Eventually they got bored and me and Jeff left. I didn' know Eric had stayed behind until later that night, when he called me and Jeff to his house and told us what he'd done."

"So Eric told you two that he'd stabbed Spencer?" asked Jim.

"Yes."

"Can you tell us exactly what he'd said?"

"Somethin' like, 'I did it. I finally got the S.O.B.' I was confused, so I asked him what he meant. He started laughin' like crazy and pulled out a bloody knife and said, 'Well I went and stabbed Spencer Reid for insulting my mother, didn't I?'"

"Then what happened?"

"Well, I just got up and left."

"Bobby," started Markovic, "would you be willing to testify in court about this?"

"If it'll help. I can't be friends with Eric anymore. He deserves to be put behind bars."

"Does Eric know you're telling us this?"

"Doubt it."

"Well, we're going to need you to stay here until we have Eric in custody, all right?"

"Okay."

"Do you know where he is right now?"

To cop and the CSI's dismay, he shook his head. "I can tell you he ain't at school."

"Thank you Bobby," said Markovic getting out of his seat and leaving. Jim followed.

"Jim, I want you to go back to the Fletcher house with a patrol car to get Gil. Call for back-up if you need it. I'm going to send men to all the places frequented by Fletcher. It's about time this brat is brought to justice."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: This was definitely a…difficult…chapter to write, but I wanted at least one chapter with Reid and his mom before this thing ends. It's depressing, so Lizzy Borg tells me, but I hope you'll enjoy it none-the-less. :D One last thing to mention, the next chapter is most likely going to (technically) be the last chapter. :( There is going to be an epilogue though!**

**Warning: Well… Really the only references I have are an almost unnoticeable one to The Instincts. For those of you who either haven't see it or didn't catch it, Reid has a dead uncle named Daniel. I just…elaborated…on it. No murder plot! Don't worry! I also technically have one to Revelations too. Think of the first flashback and you'll catch it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, Diana Reid or CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. CBS is their owner, but I do own Dr. Thomas Mortimer (Do I ever even mention his name is Thomas? I don't think so…) and Nurse Elena Lupo.**

Spencer jumped awake from yet another fevered dream and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He didn't need Dr. Mortimer to tell him that he was dying, he'd figured that out for himself surprisingly enough, but he wished the doctor would stop talking down to him like a child. Even though he _may be_ a child, he most likely had the higher IQ of the two and would appreciate some acknowledgement to that fact and a little respect.

The boy groaned and pulled the hypothermic blanket tighter around his thin body, enjoying its coolness against his over-heating skin.

Nurse Lupo walked in and brushed the kid's sweat-soaked bangs out of his face. "How are you feeling, honey?"

_Um… Worse? _he thought._ Like my body is going to explode? Like I'm sitting in the Fires of Hell? All of the above? _"A little better…I guess…"

Elena smiled and checked his temperature. 104ºF, that was 0.5ºF higher than it was an hour ago. _Why weren't any of the antibiotics working? _She sighed sadly at the thought and prepared more morphine to inject into the kid's IV.

"It's higher isn't it."

She nodded. "Don't worry about it though. You're going to be fine, Spencer."

"Please don't lie to me," the eleven-year-old begged. "I need to know the truth."

"You're going to be fine," she repeated, and patted the boy's arm. _He isn't going to be fine,_ she thought._ He's going to die and he knows it. Why isn't anything we're doing helping him? _"I'll be back in another hour, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, and the nurse left to find Dr. Mortimer.

"His fever's still increasing," Elena said as she entered the break room.

Dr. Mortimer sighed and poured cups of coffee for the two of them. "So, he still isn't responding to antibiotics, and the infection is obviously getting worse. Then, to make matters worse, we still haven't gotten in contact with his family."

The young nurse looked up at the doctor. "He isn't going to make it, is he. I mean, I told him he was going to be fine, but…" She shook her head.

He pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose in thought. "I don't know what else to do," he said quietly. "The way I see it, since nothing is working we have to try penicillin. If that doesn't work…well…there's nothing else that I can do."

* * *

Diana Reid got off the bus and walked into the hospital. As much as she hated hospitals, she knew she had to go if she wanted to see her baby. _Well_, she thought, _at least the voices have shut up._

She nervously walked over to the front desk. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah?" replied the young woman sitting there.

"I'm looking for my son. He should be here."

"What's the name?"

"Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D."

The young woman typed the name into the computer. "Hold on a moment," she said picking up a phone. "Dr. Mortimer to the lobby. Dr. Mortimer to the lobby." She hung up the phone and turned back to Diana. "You can take a seat ma'am. He'll be here shortly."

"What happened?" Diana demanded. "Why can't I see my son?"

"Ma'am please calm down," the receptionist said with a slight hint of fear in her voice. "I'm sure he's fine. Please take a seat and Dr. Mortimer will explain - "

"No I will not take a seat! I want to see my son! Why are you keeping him from me?"

"Ma'am, I'm not keeping your son from you. Please relax." She was immensely relieved when she saw Dr. Mortimer. "Uh, Dr. Mortimer, this woman is here for Spencer Reid."

"Are you Mrs. Reid?" the doctor asked.

Diana nodded, composing herself. "Where is my son?"

"He's resting, but I'll take you to him."

"Will you tell me what happened?" she said, following the doctor.

Dr. Mortimer sighed. He'd been dreading this part. "Well…he - "

"Don't water it down. Just tell me what happened."

He cringed. "Mrs. Reid, your son was beaten and stabbed in the liver."

Diana abruptly stopped walking and slumped against a wall, a few tears ran down her cheeks. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked, after a moment.

The doctor frowned, unable to decide how to respond.

"What's wrong?"

"He has a severe infection and the antibiotics aren't working." Pause. "We're hopeful penicillin will work however." Pause. "Mrs. Reid, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I really would like to see him."

"Of course," he said and led her the rest of the way to her son's room. Of course he wanted to know where she'd been all this time, but he decided it would be best to wait until she was less emotional. "He's sleeping right now, but I think it would be okay if you wake him. He's been asking for you."

She mumbled a thanks to the doctor before entering the room. It was a bit of a shock to see her son like this: he was so gaunt and so pale except for bright pink cheeks, and he was drenched in sweat. When she noticed the IV, she felt sick herself. She hated to think of her son as dependant on medications as she was.

She sat on the edge of the small bed and gently shook his shoulder.

"Mom?" he asked weakly, still mostly asleep.

"I'm right here, baby. It's all right.

Spencer opened his eyes to see that his mother was actually there. "I'm still dreaming…"

"No, I'm really here Spencer," she said, lightly pinching his arm. "See?"

He smiled faintly. "How did you know I was here?"

"A man came by the house and said you were here," she said. "I wish I could've come sooner."

"It's okay mom." He knew all too well that meant she had been going through one of her phases.

Diana put her hand on her son's forehead. "You're so warm."

"I know," he replied quietly.

"Do you want me to go so you can rest? We can talk later - "

Spencer looked at his mother with eyes filled with terror, afraid of being left alone again, and loosely grabbed her wrist to stop her. "No, don't leave! Please don't leave me!"

She smiled tenderly and laid next to her son, carefully putting her arm behind his head. "All right, I won't leave. Don't worry baby."

"I'm scared," he said quietly and shakily, nestling into his mother's embrace. "I don't want to die."

Ever since the suicide of her older brother, Daniel, death had not been an easy topic for Diana. "Don't talk like that Spencer."

"Why not? It's true," Diana opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer continued. "You can't deny it mom. I'm dying."

"Spencer, look at me. You are not going to die. And do you want to know why? It's because you are not weak. Honey, from what I hear you've survived being stabbed, I'm sure you can survive an infection."

"This is different, mom. Approximately one in five people who get a hospital acquired infection die each year. One in five!" The boy could no longer contain his tears and broke down.

Diana brushed the tears out of her son's eyes. "None of that Spencer. You are not going to die. Trust me Spencer, a mother always knows."

_I hope to God your right, _he thought and snuggled back up to his mother, his body still racking with sobs.

"Now you need to rest, so no more worrying," she said once Spencer calmed down.

"Okay mom," he mumbled and the two soon fell asleep.


End file.
